


the road not taken.

by AlwaysInSonder



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, At Some Point heh, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, They'll Have A Happy Ending, plance, separated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 14:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysInSonder/pseuds/AlwaysInSonder
Summary: “Goodnight,” she whispered, letting her heels rest on the floor. Lance’s warm fingers brushed tenderly over her cheek and the cool metal of his wedding band pressed to her skin briefly. She dared herself to look to his face. As soon as his dark blue eyes, filled both with longing and quiet anguish met hers, she regretted it.“Goodnight, mi amor.”





	the road not taken.

**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat of an ambitious idea that's been rattling around in my head for a few months now...finally decided to take the plunge. You can probably tell I've been heavily influenced by The Marvelous Mrs Maisel (a must watch!). Hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> As is the case for all my fics... posted at nearing 4am now so I apologise for any silly mistakes/continuity errors. I'll fix them as soon as I spot them.

**_Daibazaal Boulevard, New York, 1948_ **

 

“What’s an uptown girl doing downtown all on her own?”

Pidge jumped. She hastily tucked an escaped lock of her hair underneath her cap and warily turned around. In the dim street light, the gleam of immaculately waxed hair stood out to her first and then eyes that glinted mischievously in the precise blues of her nonna’s favored tanzanite ring. Her heart fluttered as the man walked closer to her - really, any woman should be terrified to have a stranger approach her - and she took an instinctive step backward.

She didn’t know what unsettled her more - the fact that he immediately recognized that she was a woman or that he didn’t seem at all fazed by her scandalous choice of clothing. He stopped his steps immediately, sensing her unease and retreated to the light of the streetlamp. “Don’t worry lady, I’m not a creep.” He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and Pidge noted it’s fine tailoring.  “I have a sister about your age,” he continued. “I wouldn’t want her walking alone around these parts.” Pidge blinked owlishly at him, unsure of what to say. "I mean...should I call you a lady, or would you prefer I don’t?” he continued, almost as though he's unsure of himself now. She was already caught, it seemed pretty senseless to continue the charade. Pidge could only manage a shrug in response; she was far too distracted with the gorgeous specimen of a man before her.

She picked up a slight accent from his voice that she couldn’t pinpoint - nothing unusual for where she was. Her uncle too, had a slight Italian slant to his speech that reared when he was excited or angry. But it was his eyes that bothered her the most. They looked familiar, but she couldn’t place why; not when her tummy was making weird flips every time he gazed down at her.

“I can manage,” she quietly cursed the light waver in her voice. “I’ve walked these streets alone many times.”

His brows rose as that. “Really? It’s the first time I’ve seen you. At least, around here.”

“You know me?” she tilted her head, giving him a once-over (and _maybe_ using it as an excuse to check him out). Surely, she would have recognized him by now if she knew him.

The man shrugged and gave her a sly smile that made the strange flutters in her chest return. “I wouldn’t say I _know_ you…” The light revealed a handsome, boyish face. His features distinctive and his skin a rich olive tone. It was obvious he took great pride in his appearance for she felt inadequate in her brother’s fraying, tweed coat. He wore a well-fitted navy suit; one that was impeccably tailored to his tall, lithe figure. “But you’ve got a cute face I’d remember. I’ve definitely seen you around. Just not these parts.”

A man that handsome had to be a criminal.

She adjusted her cap self-consciously and that action alone made her mentally wince. Of course he knew, he must have seen her tuck her hair into her hat.

“Ah, a college gal,” he nodded towards the books tucked under her arm. “I’m guessing the swanky one for ladies down by the river?”

Her lips twitched but she bit her inner-cheek before she could smile. “You have the location right. But no.”

He blinked for a bit and laughed heartily. “Surely you don’t go to that Ivy?” When he realized that she wasn’t as amused as he was and that she was looking placidly at him, the grin dropped from his lips. “Are you being serious lady?”

“I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Huh.” He blinked, folding his arms. “I didn’t know they took in women.”

At the very least, his reasoning for his doubt stemmed from the college’s own backwards admissions policy than an intellectual lacking on her part. She was more tickled than annoyed.

“They don’t,” she admitted with a sigh. “Not for the physics department at least. They’ve taken in a handful down in engineering but...astrophysics has always been my true calling.”

He appeared to mulled over her words and his eyes flicked to the textbooks now defensively placed over her chest. She watched his eyes scan the titles before lifting to meet hers. It seemed like he made the connection between her books typically not suited for “feminine brains” and her manly clothing.

“Well,” he sucked in a deep breath. “That’s damn impressive.” The devilish grin returned and so did the silly sensations in her body. This time, it was an odd flipping in her belly. She would have mistaken it for nausea if she didn’t feel so light-headed.

“May I walk you back to your- Ah, yes.” He laughed, shaking his head. “ _Gentlemen_ don’t need other gentlemen to walk them home.”

“Why not,” she scoffed. “You can keep each other company.”

“Ah, _hermosa_ ," he chuckled, stepping closer to her. Pidge severely underestimated his height from the distance and found her neck craning to meet his eyes. "I may not shy away from beautiful men but I love the ladies too much.” His elbow jutted out towards her and it took Pidge awhile to realize that he was offering his arm to her.

“I’m Lance. Lance Serrano.” His last name rung a bell, but Pidge was busy considering his arm for a few more seconds than what was polite before reluctantly accepting it. “I’ve seen you about on the Upper West. Your dad works for the university doesn’t he?”

She bristled at that, hoping that wasn’t an implication that she’d gotten her place because of nepotism. It was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Should I be worried that you know so much about me?”

Lance laughed and gave her a wink. “Once upon a time, maybe. But no. My sister goes to your college.”

“The one that’s my age?”

“Nah, older. She’s working towards a doctorate now. First woman in my family to go to college too.”

Pidge’s brows disappeared into her bangs but she was still skeptical. Lance raised a palm and rested his other over his heart. “Word from the bird, lady. I’ve got a photograph to prove it.” He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, cut photograph of a woman from his wallet. She squinted at the black-and-white image of a gorgeous, familiar woman in a graduation gown and felt goosebumps rise up her arms. Pidge definitely had seen around her women-scarce campus; even with the lack of color in the photo, she could just imagine the very same blue eyes on her. What were the chances of her bumping into her brother?

“Wow,” she breathed. “What’s her name?”

“Veronica.”

“Small world,” she mumbled, feeling a lot more at ease with him. Her heart, however, hadn’t calmed down the slightest.

He tucked the photo carefully back into his pocket and his hand returned to rest gently over hers. Pidge couldn’t help the flush to her cheeks. On that cool, spring night, the warmth of his hands felt _wonderful_ on her cold fingers.

“Shall we?” he grabbed her books before she could protest and tucked it under his arm. “I don’t believe I’ve caught your name.” He nudged her gently, bringing her out to the busy street and earning a few odd looks.

“Pidge.”

He blinked at that, but said nothing more and led her through the busy night crowds as though she were just like the other ladies. Only, she wasn’t decked out in a dress, coiffed hair and heels.

“Just Pidge?” he asked as he winked and a blew a kiss at a passing man who had muttered an unkind word that made her gasp.

“Did he just-”

“Now don’t worry your pretty little head about that man.”

Pidge bristled, but just huffed in annoyance. “How are you so blase about it?”

“I’m not _blase_. Trust me, if there wasn’t a lady nearby, I would have given him a good ole’ knuckle sandwich.” She looked about her in confusion. They were in a much more quiet street now and there was not a single woman in sight. “I was very obviously referring to you,  _hermosa_.”

"Oh." Her cheeks burned. 

Lance chuckled and tugged her down another bustling lane. It was lined with bars, cabarets and other establishments that she was sure her parents won’t be happy to know she’d been nearby to. For a moment, panic set in at the unfamiliar route he was taking, but his hand rested over hers once more, almost as though he could read her mind. “It’s a short cut,” he gave a salute to one of the gentleman smoking at a corner and the man tipped his hat. “It’s safer than going down thirty-fourth street. If you feel like I’m a danger to you at any point, go ahead and stab me with that pocket knife you’ve got there. But really, if you really have to, try and avoid the suit. It’s a new one.”

Pidge looked at him incredulously and he only gave her a warm grin that made her bite back the snarky response that had formed on the tip of her tongue. Her hand drifted down to her pants pocket and her weapon of choice was still safely nestled there. How he knew it was there, or what it was, was beyond her.

She glanced at him sideways, eyeing the fine suit and his coiffed hair. Her mind went to film noir - her mother’s favored genre of movies. He could easily fill the role of the slick villain or the debonair protagonist. Or, the most likely case, she could be very well be on the arm of a serial killer walking to her own, very stupid death.

“Admiring the view?” he grinned, showing off bright pearly whites. “If I'd known I was going to be appraised by a lovely lady tonight, I would've paid more attention to my hair.”

Without much thought, she sounded off in a way that would have earned a good ear twist if her mother was nearby. “If you put in any more product, your hair would slide off your head.”

Lance’s jaw dropped and for a moment, Pidge wondered if this was going to be her last moments of life. But the man threw his head back and laughed heartily. Had he been any other man, Pidge would have thought he was laughing at her expense.

“I like you Pidge,” he chuckled, turning to give her one of those heart-melting grins.  “I have a feeling we’re gonna be good friends.”

* * *

 

**_Kerberos Street, New York, 1955_ **

 

**_7 years later_ **

 

**_Present day_ **

 

Pidge shifted uneasily in her seat. Her girdle dug into her ribs and she already felt welts on her waist. It’s been a long while since she’d worn them and she’d long forgotten how uncomfortable they were. Her fidgeting was making her dress crinkle in the deathly quiet room, so she bit back a sigh and forced herself to still. 

Her husband, on the other hand, was as still as a statue next to her. His handsome face, usually one that was ready to offer a smile, was void of emotion and his eyes were dull and gave nothing away but exhaustion. She barely recognized him and it was all her fault. Tears flooded her eyes but she quickly blinked them away and returned her attention to the man before them, her fingers twisting her wedding band anxiously. 

This was not how Pidge anticipated her life to go.

“Sign here, please,” the man said, pushing the document towards her. He gave her a warm smile and there was a wise, knowing look in his dark eyes.

Pidge shakily picked up the fountain pen and scribbled her initials underneath another. The last time they had signed something together, it was the lease for their new home. Right when they were starting their lives out together.

Beside her, Lance sighed heavily. The chair scrapped the floor as he stood and he pulled on his coat.

“Will that be all, Mr. Shirogane?” she asked as she shakily closed the cap over the pen.

“Yes. If you wish to pursue div- ah, something more permanent, feel free to pay me another visit.”

“Thanks Shiro,” her husband - _could she still call him that?_ \- shook his hand. “My work schedule’s been really unpredictable and the guys back at the station didn’t think it was right for a rookie to take time off. Really appreciate you taking the time for us.”

“It’s really no problem Lance,” the man smiled evenly. He looked kind and wise for his age, despite being only a few years older than Lance. “The both of you are handling this very maturely. I've handled cases with people twice your age who acted like a bunch of toddlers.”

Lance nervously ran his hand through his hair. Pidge never saw herself thinking it, but she missed it when he used to style it. There were dark smudges under his eyes and faint lines etched on his forehead. He was still the heart-meltingly handsome man she met on a dark alleyway as a college student, but it was clear as day that the entire ordeal was taking a toll on him.

“We’re just taking things as they come,” Lance forced a weak smile. The same one he’d pull in front of his family and the very ones that pained her. It was so typical of him to put up a brave front. “We genuinely want the best for each other.” He’d glanced over her at her at that moment and the dull ache in her chest intensified. There was so much pain in his eyes, all because of her.

“Thank you Mr. Shirogane,” she pulled on her gloves and stood up. As she reached for her coat and found herself grasping her, she turned to see Lance holding it out for her. She gave him a weak smile and allowed him to help her into it. “We’re so sorry to impose on you out of office hours.”

“Anything for an old friend,” the man smiled over at Lance and then gently down at her. “And please Mrs Serrano, I must insist you call me Shiro.”

Mrs.Serrano. Was she still going by that name after this? With a tight smile, she responded. “Then I must insist you call me Pidge.”

* * *

 

**_Central Plaht West, New York_ **

 

Lance was uncharacteristically quiet. Occasionally, the radio in his car would crackle, with code spoken that she wasn’t fully familiar with. She glumly thought back to when she’d spoken to the commissioner about two-way radio channels and have received nothing but a condescending laugh and a kiss to the hand for her ‘concern’.

“You have to go to work,” she began, her voice oddly soft. “I could have gone home on my own.”

“It’s winter and it’s too damn dark,” he paused, as though remembering himself and sighed. “You’re still my wife, Pidge. I still want to make sure you get home safe.”

Pidge fidgeted in her seat, trying her best not to let him see her eyes watering up. Lance winced at his own tone and dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to force a decision on you. Fu-”

“Lance, it’s okay. You’ve always been protective.” Pidge touched his shoulder. “Thanks for driving me home.” Lance’s hand rested over hers, and Pidge basked in the brief warmth it offered.

Home was their tiny, but cosy and beloved shoebox apartment in East Altea. Now, it was back to her parents’ apartment on glitzy Central Plaht West. There could be worse fates for a woman like her. A dark, cramped apartment in the murkier corners of the city, locked up in an asylum with an ice pick to the brain or worse still, quietly sent away to an ‘institution’ with no further explanation like the fate of a distant great aunt.

She was lucky in her fate, and she was luckier still to have him for a husband.

As his car came to a standstill outside the apartment block, Pidge hurriedly opened the passenger door before he could. Frigid wind filled the interior of the car immediately and Lance was by her side in an instant. His arm closed around her, pulling her firmly to his side, one end of his coat lifted to block the winds as he escorted her towards the entrance.

“Good evening Mr Serrano. Mrs Serrano.”

The doorman, Robert, greeted them warmly, opening the door for them and ushering them into the warmth of the lobby. Pidge wondered if he still perceived them as the young, loving couple they once were. To outsiders, it would seem as they are.

A weird sense of deja vu overcame her as Lance gave a weak, but no less charming smile to the man as he usually would. Even taking the time to ask how his evening was going as the amiable person he was. It was just as though he was bringing her home from a date, when they were nothing but a young couple in love - not quite the innocent dinner and walk in the park her parents thought -  but still, the nostalgia overwhelmed her.

Before the memories could make her eyes mist over, Pidge distracted herself with calling for the elevator and then adjusted her coat, brushing off drops of melted snow from her coat. She had to put it all behind her now, for her own good.

“I have to get going now Rob, have a good night.”

“Goodnight, Robbie,” she managed to keep her voice clear and even forced a smile. The doorman respectfully turned his head away, likely thinking they were going to spend all their time kissing each other goodbye.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” Lance whispered, as he came up next to her. She didn’t have the energy to refuse him, but she knew the both of them wanted to be away from prying eyes (and ears).

The elevators doors opened and the operator smiled brightly at her. Pidge forgot how hard it was to get privacy in her parent’s place. “Oh Mrs Serrano! I have not seen you in a long while. How are you?”

“I am well Ed, thank you,” she smiled earnestly at the elderly man. The man had watched her grow up, back when she was still ‘Miss Holt’ to him.

As Lance exchanged the usual pleasantries with Ed, Pidge thought of how drastically their lives were about to change; of all the people they had to tell. Friends, colleagues, acquaintances... _family_ , she shuddered at the thought. Lance’s arm immediately lifted to rub her arm gently and comfortingly, thinking she was shivering out of the cold.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them on her parents’ floor, Pidge felt her heart beat erratically in her chest. Less than a decade ago, it would have been because she was a young woman helplessly in love with her best friend, receiving her first kiss ever.

“Do you want to come in? Mom can pack a late dinner for you.”

“No, I’m good.” Silence and an air of malaise filled between them and Pidge hated it. "It's late," Lance sighed next to her and gently steered her towards the door. "Go rest. I'm sure they're anxious to see you." For once, she was silent and only gave a meek nod. She turned around to look at him and his head bent down out of habit for a kiss, but he stopped himself before he could dip any further, clearly unsure if he should. Deciding for the both of them, Pidge pulled herself to her tiptoes, her fingers grasping his suspenders under his coat to give herself leverage. She gave him a chaste kiss over his lips, pausing for a moment to let him pull away if he wished, before going in for one more longer, soft kiss. 

Her husband's strong arms came around her, pulling her close and enveloping her in a warmth she knew she would feel on her skin, long after he'd driven away. He was still there before her, and her heart was already clenching painfully at the thought of him leaving. Even as their lips parted, Lance's arms didn't leave her. She clung onto his lean form, not at all bothered by the gun that pressed uncomfortably to her side. After a few more precious moments, Lance pressed his forehead to hers gently for a moment before slowly pulling himself away.  

“Goodnight,” she whispered, letting her heels rest on the floor. Lance’s warm fingers brushed tenderly over her cheek and the cool metal of his wedding band pressed to her skin briefly. She dared herself to look to his face. As soon as his dark blue eyes, filled both with longing and quiet anguish met hers, she regretted it.

“Goodnight, _mi amor_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well...penny for your thoughts? x


End file.
